


Your Obedient Servant

by Nemainofthewater



Series: Timeship Week 2019 [3]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Don't copy to another site, F/M, Gen, Human Gideon, Period Typical Attitudes, Raiders of the Lost Art, RipFic, Some angst, Swearing, The Seventies, Timeship Week 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 00:37:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20322193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nemainofthewater/pseuds/Nemainofthewater
Summary: Human!Gideon AU.Everyone knows about the rivalry between film students Gail Ryder and Phil Gasmer.





	Your Obedient Servant

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Timeship week 2019-day 3: Human/Android Gideon.

“CUT!”

In front of her, the actors playing Merin and Rachel fell silent. What were their actual names? She didn’t really care. Gail sighed, and stepped forward.

“Look,” she said patiently, although considering how Merin flinched back, she wasn’t that successful, “Can you guys put a bit more emotion into it? Merin, you’ve decided to give up your life’s work for this! You’re so in love with Rachel that you literally gave up time travel. I mean, who does that?”

Merin opened his mouth to speak, and Gail cut him off: “That was a rhetorical question Merin, because it’s you. You do that.”

“You, erm, you know my name’s not Merin, it’s Ja-”

“You do know that I don’t care?” Gail said flatly, “Maybe if you spent less time making out with Suzie Rodriguez behind the dumpsters, and more time trying to get into your character’s head, then you’d be able to a halfway decent job.”

She rounded on Rachel: “And you!” she said, jabbing a finger in her direction, “You’re a goddamn Time Master! You’re intelligent, courageous, ready to leap into danger at any moment, and a bit of a moron. Is it too much to ask that you stop whispering your lines so we can actually hear what you’re saying? Is it? How the hell did you get this far in film school?”

“I-I-I,” Rachel stuttered, fiddling with her long, brown, coat, “I mean, I thought that you’d got the character names mixed up! I didn’t realise I was actually going to have to deal with explosions…”

“Urgh!”

Gail gave up. Waving a hand at her inept actors, she said: “Done. We’re done for the day. Just…Come back tomorrow and be better.”

Nobody moved.

“Now!”

At her shout, people started to trickle out of the room. “I can’t believe it,” she heard someone mutter behind her, “She actually is as bad as Gasmer said. I thought he was exaggerating.”

Gail felt something inside of her burn with unidentifiable emotion at the name. She narrowed her eyes.

“Phil Gasmer,” she hissed into the almost empty room.

The thing about Phil Gasmer was…The thing was that they had once been close. When she’d been younger and more foolish and before she realised the realities of working in the industry.

They had started film school together: he was from some small town in North California, she was from the middle-of-nowhere Iowa. It was hard to believe, considering that nowadays people actively avoiding invoking Phil’s name around her, but they had been…friends. They had gravitated toward each other from day one, each seeing something of themselves in the other. A couple of bright-eyed hopefuls, lazily passing joints back and forth at parties their friends had dragged them to, sat together in the dark and sketching dreams together. The worlds they had created, so vivid that Gail still dreamed of them. She had dozens of sketchbooks at home, filled with art of varying quality, each carefully drawn picture with a little p.g or g.r inked next to it. She still couldn’t bring herself to throw them out.

It had all fallen apart two semesters in, when he was getting noticed by their professors, when he was given a larger budget for his projects, when work that they had collaborated on together had earned him glowing reviews, and her remarks about ‘trying harder next time, sweetie,’ and ‘stealing her boyfriend’s ideas’.

Gail Ryder was many things. But she wasn’t a thief. And she wasn’t a pushover. And she was going to graduate first in her class and make world-changing films, and if the rest of the world didn’t like it? Then too bad.

Phil…hadn’t understood. Phil was incredibly naïve when it came to the way that the industry worked, with the way that the world worked if she were honest. Either that or he just didn’t care. Gail hoped it was the former. She really did.

When the arguments had ended, when she had collapsed on her couch, with a pint of ice cream and a rough draft of her thesis script that she couldn’t actually see through the tears that wouldn’t _stop coming_… It was at that point that she knew that she hated Phil Gasmer. Intensely. Irrationally. Hated him. Because…he wasn’t meant to be like the others. He was meant to be better.

Standing on her empty film set, Gail took a deep breath, stiffened her shoulders, and screwed her courage to the sticking place. It was time to confront the traitor.

#  
  


“Gail! You can’t go in there!”

George ran toward her, trying to stop her determined march toward Phil’s film set on the other side of the parking lot without actually touching her.

“Why not?” she said, not slowing, “Doesn’t he want to see me? Well that’s too bad.”

“I just…don’t think…this is a good…Will you slow down Gail!”

Scowling, she came to an abrupt stop, causing George to run into her.

“What is it,” she snapped, “And it better not be that’s he’s too busy doing ‘serious director things’ and can’t be bothered to see me.” She felt the flare if indignation rise up in her: “And actually, George. Maybe you could explain to me how Phil thinks that he can just badmouth me behind my back, like we’re not fucking professionals-”

“Gail.”

“-like we’re still in High School-”

“Gail.”

“-he could at least have the decency to tell me in person-!”

“GAIL!”

Gail stopped, chest heaving.

“He’s been arrested! And attacked. That’s why you can’t see…him…” George trailed off into silence as she glared at him.

“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner,” she hissed.

“I. Tried?”

“Which police station?” she said.

“…why,” George asked.

“Because,” Gail said, “I’m going to bail the idiot out.”

#

“How the hell did you get in here?!”

Phil looked up from where he was slumped in the chair of the interrogation room. Vindictively, Gail noted that he wasn’t looking good, even taking into account the fact that he had been arrested: dark shadows under his eyes, greasy hair, a strong smell of weed surrounding him.

“Have you not been sleeping again?” Gail asked, “No don’t answer. I can see that you haven’t, you idiot.”

“You know, the best bit about you not speaking to me anymore was that there wasn’t any nagging,” Phil complained.

“Shut up,” Gail said, “You don’t get to complain, you were arrested. Arrested Phil!”

“It wasn’t my fault!” he said, “There were these guys with these weird alien weapons. They attacked me! “

“Yeah, George said but honestly? I think it’s more likely that you both got stupidly high and attacked some innocent bystanders. God knows it isn’t the first time that’s happened.”

“That’s not- You can’t just bring that up whenever you want, Gail! You were there as well; we weren’t the only ones high that night.”

Gail glared at him: “I was the one who was suspended,” she hissed, “You and George got let off with a ‘boys will be boys’, and I got fucking suspended for three weeks.”

“I-That’s not my fault,” Phil said weakly.

“No, but you didn’t exactly protest, did you?”

“…no,” he muttered, staring intently at the table, “And. I should have. I’m- I just didn’t want to get kicked out.”

“But you were happy for me to be?”

“No! Look, it’s different for you, Gail. You’re talented, anyone can see that. You’ve got these, these ideas just bursting out of you and. And you actually know how to use them! George is the same, you’re just. Talented.”

“Boo hoo,” Gail said flatly, “You want me to believe that you were a dick to me because you’re jealous? Because you feel like a fraud? News flash Phil! We all feel like that! Not all of us are assholes about it.”

“I-” Phil ran his hands through his hair, pacing up and down the small room; “You’re right,” he said finally, “I was an asshole to you, and you didn’t deserve it. I’m sorry.” He collapsed back into the uncomfortable chair and stared fixedly at the table.

Gail felt something in her thaw. Just a bit. She was still fucking angry at Phil but…not angry enough to leave him in jail. Not for something she was pretty sure wasn’t his fault.

“Come on,” she said, extending a hand.

“What?”

“Let’s get out of here. I paid your bail.”

“You-How?”

Gideon grimaced.

“Trust me, you do not want to know.”

Honestly, if she could wipe the last hour from her mind she would. The duty officer…well, he proved that there was a reason that ‘pigs’ was a common nickname for the police.

“Gail,” Phil said, finally staring at her with his large, stupidly emotional eyes: “You’re amazing.”

Gail grinned back at him and was about to reply: ‘I know’, when she was cut off by…well, by Phil throwing himself at her. And before she knew it, they were kissing. She stood frozen in shock for a moment before she leant into it, sense memories coming back to her. She stifled a groan, and pressed forward-

“What the hell!” said a voice from behind.

“Mmph!”

Gail jumped back in shock, accidentally headbutting Phil who let out a pained whimper and stumbled back, cradling his head in pain.

“What the fuck!” he shrieked, “How long were you standing there? And-oh damn, damn, damn, get away from me!”

Gail glared at the three intruders, who had barged into the room and were staring, slack-jawed at them. Or at least two of them were: one of them, a larger, rough looking man, had a glazed look in his eyes and a lascivious grin on his face. The blonde woman standing next to him noticed it as well, and with a roll of her eyes slapped over the head with an audible THWAP.

“…Gideon?” the third member of their group, and older gentleman who should really know better, breathed.

“Gail,” Phil hissed, “Gail these are the people who attacked me. This is bad, Gail, this is really bad.”

“I could take them,” Gail replied, not taking her eyes off the blonde who, to her eyes, was the real threat. “There’s three of them and two of us.”

“This-we don’t have time for this,” the blonde said, “Mick-”

The younger of the two men, the one that just screamed criminal to Gail, grunted in assent and started to walk toward them. Phil’s eyes widened, and to her surprise he darted forward and placed himself in front of her protectively.

“Keep-keep your hands off her,” he said, his voice cracking.

“What the hell are you doing, Phil?” Gail hissed, “Get behind me! Stop being so idiotically macho before someone gets hurt.”

Phil opened his mouth to reply, but instead crumpled to the ground unconscious as the guy, Mick?, punched him.

“What’s wrong with you people?” Gail shrieked. “Help! Someone help, there are crazy peo-mmmmph!”

The woman, hand clasped over her mouth to muffle her cries, looked a little regretful. Mind you, it was hard to care because her companions had alternately terrified and then knocked Phil out. So yeah, she wasn’t feeling up to giving her the benefit of the doubt.

“Listen to me Gideon,” she said, “We only brought one wheelchair with us. I’m going to remove my hand, and you’re not going to scream. You are going to walk out of here with us, calmly and without attracting attention. Nod if you understand.”

Reluctantly, and looking over at where the older man was arranging Phil in the wheelchair, Gail nodded. She didn’t have a chance against three people, not now she knew that they wouldn’t hesitate to hit first.

“I’ll behave,” she said, until I see my chance to get us out of this, she silently added to herself.

Ten minutes later, on the run from two murderous aliens (?) Gail was a) sorry for doubting Phil and b) regretting not just bailing him the fuck out of the holding cell while she had had the chance instead of standing around and arguing.

“Phil,” she hissed while the (slightly less murderous?) weirdoes were preoccupied with the definitely-murderous duo, “Phil, wake up.”

He groaned, eyes moving rapidly.

“Phil,” and she risked raising her voice slightly, “I swear if you don’t wake up right the fuck now, I’m going to sneak into your apartment and steal all your props. That trench coat you love so much? It’ll look amazing on Rachel. Rachel is going to kick Rip’s ass in that trench coat, and you’re going to have to resign yourself to second place yet again. Do you hear me Gasmer? If you don’t wake up right now you’re going to spend the rest of your life begging to work on one of my films.”

She risked another glance behind her. The stand-off between the two groups was getting more heated. Futuristic space guns were appearing from nowhere.

“Hurry up Phil,” she begged, “You have to wake up because I am not leaving you behind.”

Phil stayed stubbornly unconscious.

Gail could hear sounds of violence behind her now, and she knew that they were running out of time.

“This is stupid,” she said to Phil’s slack face,” But if it doesn’t work, at least there aren’t any witnesses.”

And then, leaning forward, she kissed him. Again. It wasn’t the angry, frantic kiss of earlier, nor was it the playful kisses that had defined their relationship. No, this was almost chaste, a press of lips upon lips. It was a message, a plea asking him to wake up, a promise that no matter what happened she would protect him. It shouldn’t have worked because life wasn’t a fairy tale. But…his eyes fluttered. “Gail?” he said hazily, “Gail, what?”

“Phil,” she breathed, “Phil, thank god. Listen: we have to go. Now. Before they notice us.”

She could tell the moment he spotted them. He wasn’t exactly subtle: his shoulders stiffened, and his eyes widened in terror: only the gentle press of her hand on his knee stopped him from jerking out of the wheelchair altogether.

“I don’t know what you’ve got yourself into, Phil,” she said, “But we can sort that out later. Right now we need a daring escape. Now, before they stop fighting each other and remember us.”

Phil looked up at her, eyes soft and full of trust and abruptly Gail remembered why she had fallen in love with this idiot in the first place.

“I trust you with my life,” he said unironically, “Tell me what to do.”

(Later- God later when she retrieved her memory back-up from on board the Waverider. Later, when she sat in Rip’s parlour, staring at a picture them all together: Rip with Jonas balanced carefully on his shoulders, flanked by her and Miranda, all of them smiling wildly, faces sticky with ice cream. Later when she had to face the cold reality of a world where they weren’t just Phil-and-Gail, two film students in love, but where they were Rip-and-Gideon two people still in love but with shoulders heavy with responsibilities... Later she would remember this brief shining moment when all was well, when the only thing that mattered was the two of them, united against the world.

And then she would think of Phil, sweet, annoying, slightly-dopey Phil, who was everything that Rip could have been if he’d been allowed to grow up with a loving family, without the fate of the timeline on his shoulders. And she would think of him, of her Phil, in the grasp of the Legion of Doom. Alone. Tortured for memories and information that he didn’t have.

And, photo frame cracked from her grip, hands bleeding from unfelt cuts, she would swear to herself that she would come for him. That she would come for her Captain. Because she wasn’t leaving him behind).

**Author's Note:**

> I am on Tumblr as [Nemainofthewater ](https://nemainofthewater.tumblr.com)


End file.
